


For Wherever You May Go

by Ayngondaia



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Post-Hyrule Warriors Reunion Fic, i went ham on the imagery in this one, internalized doubts and fears?? oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngondaia/pseuds/Ayngondaia
Summary: She looks different.There are scars marring her jawline. Leather vambraces are wrapped around her forearms, and a scabbard is strapped to her waist – but those sunset locks, though chopped a tad shorter, he’d recognize anywhere.Her song stills, and he forgets how to breathe.
Relationships: Legend (Linked Universe)/Marin (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 158





	For Wherever You May Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marcus_the_great](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcus_the_great/gifts).



> written for the LU Art and Writing Summer Exchange! i hope you enjoy it giftee! <3

One of these days, he’ll do it.

The palace walls fade into a blur of ivory and royal blue as he bolts past them, footsteps thundering down the hall after him. Breathe, _breathe_ _—_ he skids to a stop, nearly colliding head-on with a frazzled scullery maid, and rushes past her with a stitch in his side and aching lungs.

One of these days, he’ll kill Warriors.

Distantly, he hears said pain-in-the-ass blurt an apology to the maid, and the others shout his name – _Lege_ _n_ _d,_ they cry, _slow down._

He can’t. If he stops, even for just a _single_ fraction of a second he, _he_ _will_ _—_

Another set of doors blocks his path, and he throws it open, absolutely clueless to where he’s going – but he knows where he’s headed. The early morning light greets him, as does a bevy of doves, scattering about the steps at the ruckus. Inhaling sharply, he—

—a hand clasps down on his shoulder, halting him.

‘’ _M_ _a_ _n,_ can you run,’’ Warriors heaves. A red flush covers every inch of his face, and beads of sweat trickle down his temple – a rare sight on their collected, never-a-hair-out-of-place captain. ‘’Please, give me a moment,’’ he breathes, ‘’you have to let me explaAAHHH—!’’

Legend yanks on the man’s fingers, pulling them off his shoulder and twisting until Warriors is brought onto his knees before him.

‘’Explain _what?_ ’’ he asks, unable to stop the venom from drenching his tone. ‘’That she’s been here, _all this time,_ and YOU—‘’

‘’How was I to know?!’’ Warriors shoots back, startling some curious doves that had wandered back over to the doorway. ‘’She only ever spoke of her ‘dream boy’ – how could I have known he was real?’’

… Though there is truth to his words, they are like a knife to his soul – stabbing, wringing.

Marin is here, _alive._ She fought in a war and she _won._ And somehow, through the twists and turns of fate and magic and a ton of other bullshit he can’t wrap his head around at the moment, she has become real. She _is_ real.

Why does the thought both elate and _terrify_ him so?

Sweat clings to his hands, he’s short of breath – and he doesn’t know whether to kick in Warriors’ teeth or cling to him so, so tightly.

The others catch up to them, some more out of breath than others, and make the decision for him: neither. Hyrule marches up to him, cheeks red and pouting, to pry open his hand and free Warriors’ fingers from his torture.

‘’No, no,’’ he chides, ‘’no fighting.’’

Legend complies, if only because he can’t say no to that cherubic face – but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Warriors skitters away, all bark and no bite, and throws a cocky (albeit slightly pained) grin across his shoulder.

It merely takes Time’s iron grip on his collar, Sky pinning his arms in place with what can only be described as the fiercest hug in history, and Wind clinging desperately to his legs like a lost Maiamai for him to not throttle Warriors on the spot.

He’s held back much like a kitten by its scruff – and it infuriates him to no end. ‘’Calm yourself,’’ huffs Time, who pins him in place with one of his patented glares. ‘’Let’s not resort to manslaughter.’’

‘’ _Yet.’’_

Time’s glare hardens. ‘’I will pretend I didn’t hear that.’’ He sighs, and he looks as if he’s aged ten years in the past ten minutes. ‘’Now, talk to us. You’ve gotten the chance to reunite with an old friend here. So,’’ he releases Legend’s collar, ‘’why aren’t you happy?’’

His mind blanks. No words form on his tongue – but scowling has become second nature to him, so in lieu of anything to say, he does that, pointedly ignoring his comrades’ concerned gazes and – from more than half of them – confused questioning.

Though, rising above them all, Warriors’ voice stands out. Exasperation bleeds from every word as he asks, ‘’Do you even _want_ to see her?’’

‘’I do,’’ he admits, ‘’more than anything in the world.’’

For a few moments more, his comrades attempt to wrangle answers from him, yet he registers none of it. Their voices blur into the background of his mind. The beginning notes of a song drift throughout the gardens. Delicate, gentle.

_Familiar._

As he descends the steps, he’s more aware of the stone beneath his soles than the act of walking itself. He’s too transfixed upon the song, its words, that _voice_ _—_

—he’s longed to hear it for so long, for ages untold. The path before him is clear no longer, obscured by tears, but still he wanders on like a love-struck sailor to a siren’s call, blind to the world around him and chest aching for something that could be.

Please, don’t let this be a dream.

_Don’t let me wake up._

…

She looks different.

There are scars marring her jawline. Leather vambraces are wrapped around her forearms, and a scabbard is strapped to her waist – but those sunset locks, though chopped a tad shorter, he’d recognize _anywhere._

Her song stills, and he forgets how to breathe.

Within seconds, her gaze lifts from the doves and rabbits by her feet that she had been singing to, and meets with his. With trembling fingers he removes his cap, wringing the fabric between his fingers, and with unsteady feet, he approaches her. His heart thrums in his ears, louder than he’s ever heard.

She walks with all the poise of a woman who’s gone to war and came back singing, gait steadfast. His tears flow freely now. It is an ordeal to keep his knees from buckling.

‘’ _Marin,_ ’’ he croaks, warily reaching out his hand for her. He hates how helpless he sounds, hates how pitiful he must look to her. And yet, he keeps on going. It’s all he’s ever known to do. ‘’Marin,’’ he repeats, ‘’am I dreaming?’’

That smile is all he could’ve ever asked for.

‘’If we are—‘’ and she closes the distance with her own hand, ‘’—I never wish for it to end.’’

… He collapses before her, caresses her hand in both of his own and brings it toward him, touching it against his temple and cheeks as if praying at the feet of Hylia – confessing all his sins, _begging_ her holy light for forgiveness. Sobs wrack through him, he can’t _breathe_ _—_

—she crouches down before him, carding her fingers through his hair, before moving to wipe away the tears flowing down his cheeks.

What luck, that his goddess walks among them.

‘’You silly boy,’’ she laughs, suppressing her sniffles and hiccups – and failing, ‘’you won’t believe how much I’ve missed you.’’

One kiss, then another – and another, and one more. She cradles his face, peppering it with kisses until all he knows is her soft lips fluttering across his skin and the laughter bubbling in his throat. One more, again and again. He laughs as her soft peppering turns into a barrage of kisses, the sound foreign to his own ears.

And then she lifts him from the ground as if he weighs no more than a feather. She spins him around, laughter on her lips, and he knows that _this is it, this is what flying feels like._

All of a sudden, he can see the appeal being weightless has.

She sets him down, giggling and flushed. He could stare into those eyes for hours, get blinded by the brilliance of that smile for decades. He missed her.

And she missed him, too. Perhaps that elates him most of all.

He doesn’t even hear the others’ approach until her gaze is drawn away and in an instant, she stands alert. ‘’Captain!’’ she greets – and her hold on his sleeve, for just a moment, tightens ever so slightly.

Within the blink of an eye, she lunges toward Warriors, pounding furiously (and ineffectively) at the tunic covering his chest and, thus, the thick layer of chain mail beneath it.

‘’You awful, awful man!’’ she exclaims, punctuating her sentences with well-timed punches. Warriors, for his part, has never looked more lost on what to do. ‘’You could’ve sent me a letter, LEFT me a note, but NO—‘’

Thought he adores both the thunder in Marin’s eyes and watching the captain getting pummeled relentlessly, he reaches for her wrists to calm her – and she does, the fight leaving her as soon as she locks eyes with him.

She turns back to Warriors… and wraps him into a bone-crushing hug, a soft thank-you leaving her lips. The captain, though seemingly startled at first, gently places his hands on her shoulders after a beat. There is nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

… He supposes the man can live for one more day.

.

.

.

Love is adaptable.

It’s a saying he’s heard only once or twice in his life, but it rings true. People are unlikely to stay the same for their entire lives: they were different in the past, and they will be different in the future.

And the heart, though it disobeys more often than not, is smart. It recognizes change – it sees things that differ from before and adapts. They say love makes you blind but _it doesn’t, it makes you see so, so much clearer._

Every new thing he sees Marin do, and everything she does differently... Legend finds himself falling head over heels all over again.

She hums while she bakes, sings as she walks, taps her hands on the tabletop as she waits – familiar. Animals of all shapes and sizes flock to her, still.

And then, he finds out the scabbard strapped to her waist isn’t just for show.

Grunting, she swipes at him once more, blade traveling in a perfect arch, practically carving the sky in half. Swiftly, he stumbles back, dodging just in the nick of time. Beads of sweat trickle down his temple from exertion – and she is much the same, face red as she heaves, curls slipping out of the messy bun she had pulled it into before.

She looks _stunning._

— _CLANG_ _—_

… and he should pay attention.

‘’Are you going easy on me?’’ she laughs, face bright, and swivels on her feet to deliver another (surprisingly powerful) blow to the flat of his blade, ‘’or is this the best you can do?’’

Block, parry, _strike_ _—_

—their swords clash, stuck in a deathly dance. He forces himself not to pant, even though his lungs scream for air. Instead, he grins and pushes her blade away, ignoring his erratic heartbeat and how it beats for her, most of all.

He didn’t underestimate her. Definitely not.

‘’Oh, please,’’ he breathes, ‘’you’ve seen nothing yet.’’

That only serves to widen her own smile, and she comes back at him with renewed vigor. She steps around him, darts about, light-footed. Each of her swings either clatters upon his blade or misses him by a hair, and she forces him further and fur—

—she sweeps his leg.

His mind blanks for one sweet, blissful second – and then he’s falling. Marin reaches for him and, just barely, snags the lace threaded through the front of his shirt.

… he’s definitely had softer landings.

Blinking the spots from his eyes, she comes into view above him, mercifully blocking out the sun’s rays with an apologetic smile and the lace clutched in her hand.

She says nothing, too overcome with mirthful giggles and turning cherry-red at the sight of him splayed on the ground – _that,_ or…

A soft breeze confirms his suspicions – it brushes, feathery-light, over the pale expanse of his exposed chest. His face warms at the realization. Though she’s definitely seen him in much… _less_ … it still feels intimate in a way he cannot name.

Maybe it’s because they’ve spent so long apart.

Perhaps, it’s because he knows this high will not last forever.

Soon, he will have to depart, forced into yet another adventure as if he hadn’t been stretched thin enough already – and Marin will remain, content in this era, with new duties and friends she can share her songs with.

Before, they used to slot together perfectly. But where does he fit now? What purpose does he serve, other than to uproot the life she’s built for herself?

‘’Talk to me,’’ she says.

‘’Hm?’’

She takes a heavy seat on the cobblestone beside him, deft hands re-threading the lace through his deep collar. ‘’I still recognize that look,’’ she continues, pulling both sides of his shirt together, and tying it off with a little knot. ‘’You’re stuck in your head again.’’

‘’Oh,’’ he says, eloquent as ever in her otherworldly presence.

‘’You’ve never been the best at sharing what is on your mind.’’

Putting a finger beneath his chin, she lifts his head and catches his lips, sweet and gentle – yet sorrow pulls on his soul as she pulls back ever so slightly. He feels afraid to admit he had melted into the kiss, wishing beyond all rhyme and reason to keep her _closer,_ closer than anything possible.

And yet, he cannot cage a bird with good conscience.

Curls tickle his nose as she wraps an arm around the small of his back and closes her eyes, resting against his shoulder.

‘’I know what you’re like,’’ she says. ‘’I know what you’re thinking.’’

She presses a little harder, holds him a little tighter.

‘’Despite what you may believe… you consume my every thought. You do not limit me, you _free_ me.’’ She turns around, wrapping him in the warmth of her embrace. ‘’I don’t believe you realize how wonderful you’ve made my life. Please,’’ she whispers, ‘’don’t cry.’’

He cannot help it – tears flow in rivulets down his cheeks, and Marin wiping them away with the hem of her sleeve does little to stop it. But, he feels better, if only somewhat.

Dreams of early retirement, marriage and island life, once spoken fondly of together, now all seem so far away. They’ll need time to figure out how they fit into each other’s life – _without_ the rosy tint of young love clouding their vision.

But it’s a thrilling thought, to get to do all that with her once again.

She sits on her knees, now, dusting kisses across his wet cheeks. ‘’The passage of time has been good to you,’’ she murmurs, breath ghosting along his skin. ‘’You’re even more beautiful than I remember.’’

A chuckle rumbles in his throat. ‘’As are you,’’ he says, pointedly ignoring the waver in his voice – man, is he glad the peanut gallery— ahem, _his comrades,_ aren’t around to see this sad display.

This type of fragility, of bearing his heart… he will reserve only for her, for now.

He feels her slip something behind his ear, and finds soft flower petals when he reaches up to touch it – her hibiscus.

A piece of her, for wherever he may go or find himself.

‘’Sing with me?’’ she asks, brushing the small hairs at the back of his head, pulling him closer, _closer_ than anything possible. ‘’One song, before you have to go?’’

‘’Of course,’’ he whispers, a hair’s breadth from her lips. ‘’Anything.’’

She guides him through the first verse as he stumbles to remember the lyrics, but soon, each word comes flowing back to him – as does every emotion he’d once felt at hearing her sing this particular tune for the first time.

And if his singing voice trembles and sounds a bit rough around the edges... Marin doesn’t mention it.


End file.
